Tales of Winterfell
by Shadaux
Summary: In the north, where cold winds blew and wolves sung their chilling songs of mystery and of the horrors beyond the Wall, there still exists warmth. Warmth in the stories told behind the walls of Winterfell. Where true men are born and raised with honor.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: My second fan fiction Apologies if it's crappy. D:**

The castle felt strangely empty and desolated. Cold as it was, it only became colder without the people to warm the hearts and lift the spirits. Lady Catelyn Tully Stark sat in her chambers, an empty room, nursing her firstborn son, and the heir of her lord husband. The babe suckling eagerly on her tit. It was no easy task, birthing her son, yet it came with a reward; a feeling of success and joy. How truly blessed was she to conceive a healthy boy.

The war was over. Won with the death of the mad king and the prince, Rhaegar Targaryen. The king himself, stabbed by one of his own loyal guard, Jaime Lannister. Kingslayer, the people call him. For true, not a very pleasant title, but the Lannister man paid it no heed. The son and heir of the mad king, slaughtered alongside his men at the trident by Robert Baratheon in a bloody battle that stained the rivers red. Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, was proclaimed as the protector of the realm and the new king of the seven kingdoms afterwards.

It was a joyous time indeed. People feasted and drowned themselves with wine and drunken celebration. Others mourned the death of loved ones lost, eyes forever closed, hearts forever stilled. Never to draw breath again or to feel the love their families bore for them. Never again will they be able to feel and enjoy the life that they were blessed with. Even with the war won, both sides spilled blood.

Catelyn Stark found no comfort in knowing the war has been won. She longed to see her husband, Lord Eddard Stark; to embrace him and feel his warmth. Place a kiss upon his lips and raise their son as an honorable man. She longed for his touch, for the feel of his skin. True, she was supposed to wed his brother, yet she loved Ned just as fiercely. How she longed for the day of his return.

She turned to her son, his mouth still eagerly drawing milk from her breast, his tiny hands clutching on her cloth. He had a thin bustle of hair atop his head, auburn in color, his face a mirror of her own. The boy had the face of a Tully, not a Stark. But although his face showed her traits, the blood that coursed in his veins was that of a Stark's, cold as the chilling winter season, a true man of the north, a man that would one day become a lord.

It made her spine tingle just thinking about it.

Her son, this babe, would someday be the warden of the north. What a heavy burden that must be, and she will be there to witness him bear it all.

She stood and neared the window of her sleeping chambers as a gust of cold wind blew. It seemed like a long time had passed since the day she came to Winterfell, and in her quiet moments, she still longed for Riverrun. There, it seemed like a haven of all her best memories. No cold. No war. No winter. Just sunshine and warmth.

But in truth, it was not truly that long ago that she had come.

A stranger to Winterfell, she felt like she did not belong here once. Yet now she knew everyone in the castle. Whether it be the stable boys or the shop keepers, the merchants or the smiths with all their apprentices, the guards and their families. She knew them all and no longer felt like an outcast.

A Stark. That is what she is now.

But she could not deny the growing loneliness in her heart as of late. The war has taken many good people. People who did not deserve to die alone or in cold blood. Good people that did not deserve to die before their time had come. Oh what horrors can war wrought. Alas, Lady Catelyn remained strong. She put on the great Stark façade she had learned and put her heartaches aside.

She is Lady Stark of Winterfell. And so long as she bears that name, with her every breath, she will patiently await her husband's return with a strong conviction. For winter has come, and is coming still.


End file.
